Cardinal Sins
by semul
Summary: This is a series of Richonne stories inspired directly or indirectly by the seven deadly sins. Stories will range from AUs to canon inspired. This is based on sin so there will be lots of angst, drama, a bit smut here and there, and Richonne bad-assery in general.
1. Envy: The Breakup

_**So coming from the Ichabbie fandom, the seven deadly sins were mentioned quite a bit. I was thinking about ways on how I could bring this to the Richonne fandom. So this is my humble attempt.**_

 _ **This is a story that came to me when I started craving an envious/jealous interaction between Rick and Michonne. Be forewarned, this is heavy on the angst side and very much AU.**_

 **Envy**

 ** _the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation_**

* * *

 **Michonne's POV**

The sound of quiet chatter and clinking dinnerware filled the air of the small yet packed restaurant. It was the weekend and not a single seat was empty. Mouthwatering aromas wafted into the room from the busy kitchen but it did nothing for Michonne's appetite. She wished she was still at her parent's house, in her pj's, blankly staring at her old bedroom's ceiling with her playlist of breakup songs playing in the background.

She'd been spending all of her nights that way for the past six months. She moved back in with her parents after the breakup. She had nowhere else to go when she left their apartment of three years. She put everything she had into that place with him. It was going to be where they started their life together. The beginning of their happily ever after.

That was until she came home from a two-week long conference for her law firm and caught him in their bed, wrapped around a woman who apparently was his long lost baby mama. Turned out that Rick Grimes, the love of her life, had a ten-year-old son and an affinity for fucking his exes while she was out of town.

To be fair, she was over-exaggerating the last part. That was more for the sake of her sanity than the actual truth. She wanted to desperately believe he was always a degenerate, cold-hearted, womanizing bastard. It made it easier to stop herself from running back into his arms like some lovesick idiot.

Living with her parents was working out alright. They were more than happy to take her in. They loved her and would do anything to make sure she was taken care of. Although, they understood it would only be temporary, they ensured that she didn't want for anything.

She had to admit, it was nice being fussed over by her mom and dad. Her mom would hold her when she cried and her dad had somehow prevented Rick from seeing or talking to her for months now, most likely with threats. Although, getting her phone number changed, putting extra security at the gates of the mansion and hiring a bodyguard to follow her to and from work could have something to do with it.

She closed her eyes. Tonight had been a compromise. Her parents wanted her to at least try to enjoy herself so they had invited an old family friend to the house; Paul, aka 'Jesus', Rovia, fashion designer and her best friend since college. Though they kept up through e-mails and the occasional text message, she hadn't seen Jesus in almost five years. He had been making his name in Europe, traveling the world with his boyfriend, achieving his dream. Her mother had hoped bringing him around would remind her of better times, help her move past the breakup that nearly destroyed her.

And he had, she remembered what her life was like before Rick, which was the problem. She was a different person five years ago. Idealist, trusting, and open to the possibility of finding her other half. Now that she'd found her other half and realized how much it wasn't all cracked up to be, she just wanted to move on. Trying to go backwards and be someone she grew out of was impossible.

Though she loved her best friend, she just wanted to be alone. She didn't want to be here in this fancy restaurant with all this noise and these people, trying to be somebody she wasn't ready to be. She poked at the salad in front of her, half listening to her friend's chatter, hoping the night would go by faster.

"That's weird."

His abrupt comment caught her attention. She looked up at her friend who was staring past her shoulder at something. She studied his expression, trying to figure out what had thrown him off his story about living in Spain she'd mildly been paying attention to.

She was itching to turn around but she knew it wouldn't be polite to openly gawk at whatever had caught his attention. So she remained still. "What?"

He leaned in closer to her, as if to conspire with her, his voice dead serious. "That guy over at the bar keeps looking at me. Like he wants to kill me or something."

Michonne knit her brow. Usually, Jesus was spot on about these things. If he felt threatened, she knew it was serious. She clenched her fists. Despite the progress made in recent years, there were still homophobic assholes in the world who thought it was their place to reign down judgement on people who led different lifestyles than them. She wasn't about to let some ignorant hick intimidate her friend so she turned to find said asshole. Wrathful blue eyes immediately pierced her curious gaze. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

Rick.

She promptly turned back around. Her eyelashes fluttered uneasily, her back ramrod straight. "Don't look," she said, panic edging into her voice.

Jesus looked at her as if she'd lost her mind. "What?" His eyes shifted once again to the enraged man standing at the bar.

Michonne snapped at him. "I said don't. Keep your eyes on me." Her heart was beating wildly in her chest as a cold sweat came over her entire body.

"O-kay?" He looked at her bewilderedly, trying to keep his eyes on her. She looked terrified. "Do you know him?" he asked uneasily.

She looked up at him knowingly. "He's my ex."

"Really? That's your ex? Mr. Sexy Blue Eyes aka every cowboy's wet dream is your ex?"

Her friend could be so unnecessarily descriptive sometimes. She rolled her eyes irritably. "Yes."

He gave her an impressed look as his eyes subtly skimmed over her ex's trim figure. "So this is the guy I'm distracting you from, hmm?" After a moment of appreciating the obvious attractiveness of his friend's ex, he looked at her with a glint of humor in his eyes. "Your mom may have overestimated my powers."

She looked back at him with humorless gaze.

"You know, she never told me, why's this guy your ex and not the man you're walking down the aisle with? Last time we talked, you said you'd found the one."

She pursed her lips. She didn't particularly feel like talking about it. "Turns out he wasn't."

His eyes lit up. "Ooh, ugly breakup then?" He looked at her with an eager gaze, hoping she'd spill all the details.

She gave him an icy glare. There was nothing he could say or do to get her talk about it. Sensing her unwillingness to share, he sighed resignedly and held his hands up before picking up his glass to take a sip of his drink. He glanced over at his friend's sexy ex again. He was still glowering at him, this time his head tilted menacingly.

He raised his eyebrow in realization, as he slowly set his glass down. "Shit, this guy's gonna kill me. He's seriously gonna come over here and strangle me with his hands. Normally, I wouldn't mind but this guy is going to literally murder me." He looked at her with convinced wide eyes.

She gave him an annoyed look. He could be so overdramatic at times, especially when it came to her normally uneventful love life. At least that much hadn't changed since college. She just wasn't in the mood to try and play along.

"Don't...just don't tonight." She closed her eyes and sighed forcefully. "I don't want to think about. I just want to move on."

He considered her words. "Well, doesn't look like he's on the same page as you…," he began to say before a look of surprise came over his face, "then again I could be wrong."

Michonne looked at him questioningly. Something was going on behind her back and she needed to know. "What? What is it?"

Her friend glanced uneasily at her before looking back in Rick's direction. "I guess tonight wasn't all for naught. You're moving on to the next chapter in your life and he's...well, he's on a very blonde and perky page himself."

She narrowed her eyes, losing her ability to resist looking in Rick's direction. She took a drink from her wine glass and subtly turned in her seat to look around the restaurant. She glanced out of the side of her eye. She could see an eager blonde standing close to him, smiling with her hand on his chest trying to get his attention. He wasn't even looking at her. He continued leering at Michonne and her date. She could tell he was trying to get her attention. She turned back around and set down her glass.

Her insides twisted with a mix of emotions. She hated him with every cell in her body yet she still felt possessive of him. It was taking everything inside of her to not march over, rip that woman's arms off of him, and smack him upside the head. She shook her head at the thought. No, she couldn't be that person. He wasn't hers anymore.

An aching pain spread throughout her chest, leaving her nearly breathless. _He wasn't hers anymore._ She inhaled shakily as her friend looked at her with concern. She needed to find her control, find reason. She couldn't do that here, not with him in the same room.

"Let's go," she said firmly, reaching for her clutch.

Jesus scoffed disappointedly. "What? Why? We're just getting to the good part," he whined.

Flustered, she gripped the edge of her seat with one hand, refusing to look at him. This was all getting too overwhelming. She didn't want to see him moving on. She didn't want to confront him. She didn't want to acknowledge that he even existed. She just wanted to go home.

"I can't…I can't do this right now. We need to leave. Now," she ordered, she finally looked up at him, a wildly desperate look in her eyes.

Realizing how painful this was for her, he sighed softly, reluctant to leave matters unresolved. He stood grudgingly and went to pull out her chair. He held out his hand to her and she graciously accepted, standing as elegantly as she could muster.

"Fine but you at least owe me the juicy details behind all this drama. And I mean every detail," he cautioned her. She gave him the side eye and linked her arm with his. He led her out of the dining room, mindful of avoiding the bar.

Once they reached the waiting area, she turned to him. "I'll pay, you go get our coats."

He pursed his lips unimpressed, still disappointed by the lack of drama to their night. He pointed his finger at her warningly, as he backed away. "Details, 'Chonne, I need the details."

She ignored him as she went to pay their check. As she waited behind the couple in front of her, she felt a presence sidle up next to her. She turned to ask Jesus how he'd managed to get their coats so quickly but instead of her date, she turned to lock eyes with the man she'd been avoiding all night.

Her stomach dropped. "Rick," she said breathlessly disconcerted.

"Good date?" he asked in a low voice, searching her eyes irately. She could see the tick in his clenched jaw.

Her mouth closed as her previous anger returned. How dare he feel like he had the right to ask her anything? He was on a date himself with some bimbo he probably picked up hours ago. He had no right to be reproachful of anything, especially after all the pain he put her through. She wanted to scream at him until her throat was raw, cry until her tears dried up, and shake him until her arms gave out. He'd killed her, took her heart right out of her chest and ground it into pieces right in front of her. She hated him. She despised his very being but having him so close to her, brushing against her, she wanted to hold him so tight he'd never leave, kiss him so desperately they'd never draw breath without each other again. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

Instead, she shoved it all down, and glared daggers at him. "Go away, Rick."

Desperation passed over his face but was quickly replaced with hard acceptance. He sniffed curtly, looking away momentarily with a nod. "You know when a man takes a woman out to a restaurant like this, he pays." He looked at her witheringly.

His judgement hurt but then she remembered his opinion didn't matter anymore. The thought of the blonde number that had been clinging to him immediately came to mind. It pained her to think how quickly he'd gotten over her. While she cried her eyes out every night, he had his brunette baby mama in their bed while he was out fucking around with a slew of young blondes.

It hurt her to think that this was the kind of man he was this entire time and she had been too blind to see it. How could she have been so stupid? The rage built up inside her. He had no right to even glance in her direction let alone talk to her as if she had something to answer for. She looked at him heatedly, rage settling in her stomach. "Yeah, is that what you're doing tonight? Acting like a man? Where is she, by the way? Your lucky date?"

He appeared unaffected by her accusations but the way his nostrils slightly flared gave him away. He replied, his voice full of disdain, "Where's yours?"

She clenched her jaw, staring him down. He returned the look. The anger was palpable between them. What hate wasn't directed at each other was directed at the other's currently absent dates for the evening.

"Pardon, sir? Ma'am? Are we ready to pay?"

They both turned to glare at the maître d'/cashier. His smile faltered as he felt the waves of anger coming off of them.

Rick broke the silence, reaching for his wallet. "I'm paying for her and her date tonight."

"No. He will not be paying for us," negated Michonne but it was in vain as Rick was already pulling out his card and hastily setting it down in front of the nervous man.

She inhaled deeply, attempting to find a semblance of patience. He was so damn stubborn. It was annoying. It was frustrating. Just being near him, woke up all these emotions she'd thought she'd gotten over.

"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded through clenched teeth.

His lip slightly raised in a sneer as he looked at her, glancing to her empty side, wordlessly pointing out her date's absence. "Acting like a man should." He turned to quickly sign the receipt.

"By being a complete asshole?" she reprimanded him with an angry, hushed voice. He was driving her mad, pushing her to the edge of her patience. She didn't think she'd last much longer without the claws coming out.

He finished paying and turned to her, the flashing anger in his eyes quickly melting into remorse. He studied her gaze intensely, silently, as the features on his face quickly morphed into a look of miserable desperation. He took a hesitant step toward her, his lips parted in preparation to say something when Jesus - with his ever perfect timing - interrupted with the not-so-subtle clearing of his throat.

"Ahem, I don't mean to break up whatever happy reunion is happening here," he said tentatively, handing Michonne her coat. She quickly shook herself from her momentary daze.

Jesus looked over at Rick, who had taken a step back to compose himself, with a pleased smile. "Hi, I'm Michonne's date, Jesus. You're Rick. Nice to finally meet you." His grin widened as he extended his hand.

Rick inhaled deeply and furiously glared at his extended hand, opting instead to place his hands on his hips defensively.

Jesus bit his lip, lowering his hand and attempting to hide his delight. "Sorry, I mean my real name is Paul Rovia but everyone calls me Jesus. You can call me whichever."

Rick remained stony silent as he murderously regarded him, staring holes into his eyes, scrutinizing his very soul.

Jesus' over cheerful smile faltered. He looked at Michonne uneasily, mumbling under his breath. "Or you can just stare at me in homicidal silence. That's fine, too."

Rick's gaze turned to Michonne, who stared right back at him, her gaze steady, unwavering.

Jesus cleared his throat, nervously this time. "So, Michonne has told me a little about you. You're her ex. Your name is Rick. And, uh, looks like you have great taste in blondes." Jesus stared behind his shoulder as the perky blonde from earlier strode up next to Rick awkwardly.

"Hi, everyone. Hi, I'm Jessie," she greeted everyone with a quiet voice. She smiled uneasily, introducing herself to the woman Rick had been staring at all night. "Rick, ain't you gonna introduce me?"

He continued staring at Michonne intensely. His eyes gauging for any type of reaction. "This is Michonne," he said plainly, as if expecting her to understand the significance, not bothering to provide any other explanation beyond that.

Jesus raised his eyebrows happily, enjoying the drama of the moment. "And I'm Paul Rovia but you can call me Jesus." He extended his hand to her with a friendly smile.

"Oh, hi, I'm Jessie, Rick's, uh, friend," she repeated again, taking Jesus' extended hand and shaking it politely. She turned to Michonne expectantly.

Michonne slowly turned her gaze to her, fire in her eyes. She quickly extinguished it with a steady inhale. She nodded at her, acknowledging her presence.

"So, are you all friends or something?" the blonde asked over enthusiastically.

Jesus smile knowingly. "Well, 'Chonne and I have been friends since college. And they're…well, they're the 'or something'," he stated bluntly.

Jessie nodded in uncomfortable understanding.

"You're her friend?" Rick asked suddenly, turning his attention to Jesus. "She's never mentioned you before."

His gaze shifted between the two exes. "Uh, yeah, well I haven't seen 'Chonne in, what, how long has it been? Five years? Yeah, it's been a while but I was in town so we decided to go out. Have a little fun, maybe take it back to her place." He gave Rick a teasing smirk.

Rick's face fell, his skin starting to tinge red, the veins in his neck and forehead angrily making themselves visible.

Michonne looked at Jesus in irritation. She knew he was doing this to get a rise out of Rick but he was pushing it. "What he means is that it's none of your business and we're leaving."

"Not before we talk," Rick informed her, returning his intense gaze on her.

"Look, man, I know you want to talk with her but she doesn't, alright? So, I'd back off." Jesus widened his eyes with a tight smile, hoping his message was clear and starting to realize why Michonne had been avoiding her stubborn ex.

Rick tilted his head, shifting his stance intimidatingly, and looked at him with utter disdain. Michonne could tell Jesus was one comment away from getting strangled by Rick.

"Let's go," quickly commanded Michonne, pulling Jesus away, heading toward the doors.

Rick extended his arm in front of her. "I said we need to talk," he whispered gruffly to her.

She turned her head and harshly responded, "We're done talking Rick."

"We haven't talked worth a shit," he countered vehemently.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head. "Why don't you go back to your date, Rick?"

Mere inches separated their faces. This close, Michonne could see that Rick wasn't as well off as she thought. Dark circles permanently shaded his bloodshot eyes. The lines on his face seemed deeper than ever. His usually warm, sparkling blue irises were cold, forlorn. He was hurting, too. She couldn't deny that. Her heart, her soul were screaming at her to hold him, to forgive him. She shakily inhaled, her body trembled from the effort to restrain herself.

"I don't care about her. You know that. You can see that," he said as convincingly as he could. His chin trembled. He added softly, "You're the only one that sees me."

His words caught her off guard. They pierced the shield she'd put around herself and hit her heart with such precision, she was sure she was shaking from the force. She truly though she was the only one that could see him, the only one who understood him. Turned out, she didn't know him at all.

She shook her head, tears springing to her eyes. She inhaled deeply, keeping them at bay. "How do you expect me to believe that?" she chokingly whispered. "After what I saw. After this. How could you…?" She cut herself off, shaking her head, sniffing back tears. "No, no. We're not doing this here."

He looked at her beseechingly. "Then when? Where? You say and I'll be there. Anytime, anyplace. Just tell me, please?" he asked gently yet adamantly. He blinked as he unsteadily inhaled, his voice cracking with anguish, "Please?"

Michonne's chin trembled from the agony in his plea. She could feel his pain because it was hers, too. His lost look, the tears nearly shed, it all confirmed what she had attempted to deny. He still loved her just as much as she did him. That couldn't possibly be a lie. There was no way a person could fake that.

He closed his eyes, thickly swallowing, tempering his desperation. He leaned in close to her, softly pleaded once again, "Please, Michonne, please?" He bit his quavering lip, imploring her with his tear-filled eyes. "Give me a chance, hmm? Can you just-can you just give me that?"

Jesus and Jessie silently looked on, uncomfortable by the intimate moment being shared between the former couple.

Michonne took in Rick's wretched gaze. She'd never seen him look so miserable. She once loved him more than words could say. She loved him still. But she had lost herself. She'd forgotten that in order to love somebody she had to love herself first. She didn't know what talking to him would do but she deserved closure. The only way she could move past this was to give him what he wanted.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "Fine, Rick, fine. Just not tonight."

She moved past him, quickly walking out the doors before the hot tears streamed down her face.

Jesus stood awkwardly in front of the fretful blonde and Rick who pitifully gazed after his best friend.

He clasped his hands together and took a slight bow, slowly walking backwards, "Listen, uh, it was great meeting you guys. Thanks for the, um, well, for the great night. Really. And I will, yeah, I'll just be going now. Thanks. 'Night. "

He waved and nodded with finality before quickly scurrying after his friend.

* * *

 _ **Hope you like it! I'd love to hear from y'all because I'm still feeling my way around this series. I'm starting it out angsty but I'm not sure if I want one-shot stories for each sin (which could mean some loose ended stories) or if it would make sense to continue some of these stories by covering them with more than one sin. Like this story, for example. It could possibly continue if I really tried to be creative.**_

 _ **Anyway, I really appreciate you taking the time to read my rambles and thanks so much for reading!**_

 _ **Your Richonne loving writer,**_

 _ **semul**_


	2. Envy: The Breakup Part II

**_Envy_**

 _ **the desire for others' traits, status, abilities, or situation**_

* * *

 **Rick's POV**

Rick's eye twitched as he glared at the couple sitting at the table. He didn't recognize the guy with the long hair and goatee but the woman with dark dreadlocks sitting across from him was unmistakable.

Michonne.

After months of calling her, following her to work and home, and multiple failed attempts to get anywhere near her, there she sat right in front of him, mere steps between them. He glanced around looking for the bodyguard her father had hired. No sign of the brawny man with a killer left hook.

Finally, she was alone. He glowered at the animated, stylish Jesus-looking fucker sitting across from her. _No, not alone,_ he thought angrily. He clenched his jaw tightly. She was on a date. Apparently, she'd moved on.

His stomach churned violently, his heart clenched as if the life were being squeezed from it. Betrayal conflicted with the guilt that he'd been drowning in for months now. It killed him to see her with some idiot unworthy of breathing the same air as her, let alone date her.

 _She deserved better. She deserved a man. She deserved..._ , he stopped. He winced as a familiar ache bloomed in his chest. He wanted to say him but she deserved so much more.

He'd hurt her. Though it had been unintentional, he knew he'd hurt her in the most intimate way possible: he'd betrayed her trust. He couldn't expect her to stick around after finding him in bed with Lori. Infidelity was the one thing she'd never forgive. She'd already gone through it with the asshole before him, she wasn't about to put up with it a second time.

He drew in a shuddering breath. If only he had sent Lori on her way. If only she hadn't blindsided him with the unbelievable news that she'd had his kid ten years ago. He wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't shown him the DNA test and the picture that could've passed as him as a young boy.

Laying eyes on a photo of his son sparked something inside of him. It was like an instinct he didn't know he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He didn't know anything about being a father but he knew he couldn't just kick his son's mother out on the streets of Atlanta at night, especially when she didn't have a place to stay.

So – like a dumbass – he let her spend the night. Of course, he didn't offer her his bed but somehow she'd found her way under his covers anyway.

He should have realized it. Though he was asleep, he should have known the warm body next to him wasn't Michonne. How could he have not known it wasn't her? Instead, he had awoken to his former girlfriend going down on him and the love of his life long gone.

She didn't give him much of a chance to explain. After managing to convince her to stay on the phone line long enough to get in more than two words, he'd managed to fuck it up even further. The brief conversation consisted of him blurting out – like a dumbass – that Lori was the mother of his ten-year-old son and that though she had caught him with his dick in her mouth, he didn't finish.

That little gem earned him a swift end to that call and a reserved spot on her blocked callers list. He didn't even get a chance to tell her that it was all a mistake. He had a feeling it wouldn't have mattered anyway. She saw what she saw. He couldn't blame her if she didn't believe him.

Nevertheless, he was a stubborn man. He couldn't let this perfect woman walk out of his life forever, not without a fight.

Unfortunately, her parents anticipated his persistence. They did everything to keep him away from her. It was actually quite impressive. It had been six months since she'd left him and this was the first time he'd been in the same room as her without her bodyguard lunging toward him.

He had a chance. The nearly extinguished hope in his heart burned brightly. That was until he noticed her date. Envy quickly smothered the flame.

He calculatedly studied him. Long hair, expensive clothes, tan skin, he resembled one of those flawless male models on the cover of the fashion magazines she loved browsing through. But he wasn't her type. Michonne wasn't into pretty boys like that. Then again, the smiles that she rewarded him with told him a different story. His insides twisted tightly.

He took a long sip of the amber liquid in his glass, his eyes flitting to the mirror behind the bar. He slightly lowered his drink, studying his reflection. There was once a time when his looks were one of his greatest assets but the years were starting to catch up to him.

The wrinkles around his eyes were more prominent than ever. The gray hair in his beard and near his temples shimmered white. His youth was slowly disappearing. It made him wish he were few years younger, had some fashion sense, and maybe even had longer hair. He downed the rest of his drink. Maybe that's what she liked all along.

He sniffed at his insecurity. What the hell was wrong with him? He was fine. He looked fine. He needed to get his shit together or the chance to talk to her would slip through his fingers.

He turned and glared at her date hoping he'd feel his gaze. After an intense one-sided stare down, the guy finally turned his head. Their eyes met. Rick wanted to convey all the hate and anger he felt. He wanted this stranger to know that even though he didn't know him, he despised him with his entire being.

He hated him for making her smile. He hated him for eating dinner with her. He hated him because he existed. He could care less who he was, he just knew he hated him.

The guy looked away, a glint of fear in his eyes. _Good,_ thought Rick, at least he wasn't as brainless as he thought. Then, _she_ turned around.

They locked eyes. Though his anger reflected in his gaze, the breath left his body in shock. His heart skipped a beat as desperation snuck its way into his gaze but then she quickly turned away before she could see it. Based on her stiff posture, she was obviously upset by his presence.

He continued to longingly watch the now awkward couple, even when he felt the woman Shane had set him up with sidle up next to him. He honestly could care less about her, Jaquie or Jessica or whatever her name was. The only reason he'd agreed to go out was because Shane had threatened to hire a prostitute to 'get him out of his rut'. Unfortunately, his friend had a knack for following through with his threats.

He vaguely registered her clinging to his arm. His focus was on the goateed motherfucker who was leaning toward his woman. Fire grew in Rick's eyes. He clenched his fist ready to walk over and knock his teeth out but then she turned around again.

His stomach fluttered nervously ready to make eye contact with her but then she stopped, nonchalantly sipping from her wine glass. He could tell that she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He glared. She was playing games. He knew she could see him but she only gave him her profile before she quickly turned away again.

He flexed his jaw. _Fine,_ he thought. If she wanted to play games, he'd only be more than happy to play along.

After a moment, they stood from the table and left. Rick, still ignoring his date, set his drink down and swiftly followed. He could hear the blonde call out behind him but he paid her no mind.

His heart was beating a million miles a minute. The woman of his dreams was leaving. He needed to talk to her. He couldn't let her walk out of the restaurant without agreeing to hear him out. His life depended on it.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Watching her walk out the doors was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. She'd left traces of her sweet perfume cling to the air. His regrettable words soured on his tongue. Why didn't he say how much he loved her? He'd acted like a perfect idiot. He should have gotten down on his knees, begged and pleaded until she took him back.

How he longed to touch her, to feel her, to taste her. He hadn't realized how much he missed her until he was left standing there powerless and alone, forced to watch her disappear with her unworthy friend trailing behind her.

The moment she walked away, he quickly rid himself of his regrettable date. He knew Shane wouldn't let him hear the end of it but he didn't care. Michonne had granted him an opportunity, a chance to recuperate what they'd lost. He wouldn't fuck it up, even if it meant pissing off his friend and rejecting an easy way out.

Michonne was his life, he was more certain of that than ever. He couldn't imagine living another day without her but he'd hurt her. She'd needed time. Hell, he'd needed time. He needed to experience life without her to truly appreciate the fact that it wasn't a life worth living.

It was up to him to begin picking up the pieces and make something new, stronger. He had broken it and now he would fix it. He couldn't lose her. What they had was too perfect to end like this. It wasn't over.

 _It isn't over_ , he thought determinedly.

He deeply inhaled and walked out of the restaurant, ready to face the world again with a single goal in mind: he would find his way back to her heart and, this time, he would be a man worthy of her love.

* * *

 ** _Thank you to everybody who gave feedback to the first chapter of this series! I thought I'd give a bit more background to the situation and a dash more of envy through Rick's perspective. I hope you enjoyed it!_**

 ** _After taking lots of time to think, I've decided to do whatever feels right after each story. It may be a one-shot or it might take me a few chapters to feel good about it. Your input will definitely help with that!_**

 ** _I heard some concerns about this feeling misleading in the sense that I'm not writing exclusively about the listed sin. I just want to reiterate that these stories are solely inspired by the deadly sins. It may be obvious or it may be subtle. This is just my humble interpretation._**

 ** _As always, thank you so much and I hope to hear from you soon!_**

 ** _Your grateful writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	3. Gluttony: Insatiable

**_Whoo! Two updates in one day!_**

 ** _So I've decided to move on to the next sin. The angst was killing me and I think I squeezed all the envy I could out of that AU. So here's some non-AU Richonne goodness._**

 ** _I know most people define gluttony as an excess of just eating and drinking. I don't._ _Be warned the following one-shot is pure, gratuitous, Richonne smut._**

* * *

 **Gluttony**

 ** _an inordinate desire to consume more than that which one requires._**

* * *

The hunger of a man who lives his life by a thread can never be satisfied. He seeks nourishment yet does not know what he needs. He seeks to be satiated yet can never get his fill.

As Rick's lips follow a familiar trail up the curve of her back, he realizes he will never get enough of her. He needs more of her, more than what he deserves, more than his fill.

Michonne, his addiction, his obsession.

He buries his nose in her hair, filling his lungs beyond capacity with her essence. This is unlike anything he's ever felt, unlike anything he's ever allowed himself to feel. This is different. Terror and excitement course through his veins.

It's nothing like the terror he felt upon awakening to an apocalypse. It is an all-encompassing fear he can't fully understand. He trembles at the thought of how much he needs her. He's never depended on anyone as much as he does her. His very soul is so tightly entwined with hers, it's impossible to imagine a life without her. He would rather die.

His thoughts terrify him yet they remain, a haunting reminder of how profoundly he's fallen for her.

His lips trail down the slope of her shoulder, pausing to suckle on the firm flesh outlining her muscles. He craves the strength she shows in the face of danger, the strength that has kept her and their family alive. He needs her strength to overcome his destructive thoughts, to find his ever out-of-reach satisfaction. Though, it appears her reaction to his attentions will be enough to pursue the latter.

His hot breath travels down her smooth skin, inspiring it to visibly tingle. She shivers in desire. His flaccid member springs awake.

He is the only one who can reduce this invincible warrior to a quivering lover. She is the only one who can awaken the possessive beast inside him. It roars gleefully as she pushes against him wantonly. She needs him and he's the only one who can satisfy her need.

He traps her against the bed with his aroused body. He wants her. Again. This is just the beginning of his binge, it can't possibly end here. He slips his hardening cock between her naked thighs. A moan escapes her plump lips. Though they just finished a thorough round of lovemaking, his thirst for her remains unquenched. He wants more.

He spreads her legs further and slides himself against her folds. Her lustful whimpers are muffled by their twisted sheets. A whimper of his own escapes his lips. His cock is so hard, the act of not being inside her causes him pain.

He pushes off of her slowly, finding a better position. He firmly grabs her hips as he glides inside her warm, wet center. A groan rumbles in his throat, feeling her walls tightly clench him, already pulling him to the edge. It's heaven. It's perfection. It's everything he could ever want and yet he needs more.

His hips powerfully undulate against her, her flawless ass jostling against him with every stroke. She moans, her breath coming short, quiet gasps. He digs his fingers into her soft flesh as he thrusts himself deeper within her. His grunts nearly drown out the sound of their bodies making contact. Every nerve ending sparks from the stimulation. A sheen of sweat cover their bodies. Though her backside gives him a tempting view, it's not enough. He needs to drink all of her in.

He reluctantly pulls out and lays on his back, stretching her on top of him. She sighs, bonelessly straddling his hips with her warm thighs, resting her palms against his broad chest. He slips inside her once again with a groan. She deliciously arches her back with a gasp. He tightens his grip on her thighs. He nearly finishes before it's begun. But then she slowly begins to ride him, languidly circling her hips against his. He bites his lip until the skin nearly breaks. It's all he can do from arching off the mattress and falling apart.

Instead, he drops his hands to the sheets, gripping them tightly, and grinds his jaw as he gazes down at their union. Her damp, dark curls trigger an instinctive arousal to prickle in his lower back. He is utterly mesmerized. His eyes slowly travel up her flushed, glistening skin. The muscles in her taut abdomen flex with each thrust, her breasts tempt him with dark, erect nipples; she is a divine vision.

She slowly speeds up, seeking the friction he knows will push her over the edge. Air seeps from his lungs as he intensely gazes at her, his mouth hanging open as if in a daze. He feels her all around him, pulsating, pulling him further and further into an abyss he never wants to escape. He wants to shout out how much he loves her but his voice disappears along with all traces of coherence.

Her frantic movements abruptly stop as her body stiffens and her limbs quiver. He can feel her vibrate from her very core. His name softly passes through her lips as if it were her last breath escaping her body, "Rick."

He tightly grips her, unknowingly leaving marks of his passion behind. He wishes he could bury himself further, immerse himself completely within her. He wants to reach her soul, touch her very essence as she spills herself on him. Maybe that would bring him closer to the satisfaction he's been chasing.

Once she stops shaking, she collapses on top of him tiredly, every ounce of energy in her body gone. He's taken everything out of her, everything she is capable of giving. Yet, his appetite demands more.

He cups her face as he devours her lips, savoring her, overindulging in her taste. He moves his hips against her, as he gluttonously takes more. She gently pulls away, whines against his lips, softly supplicating him to join her in her satiated bliss. "Baby, please?"

He caresses her back as his lips drag against hers, keeping his piercing blue gaze on her as he continues to slowly thrust inside her. Her pleas slowly reach past the fog of desire, past his fear, deep within him, wrenching his pleasure from the depths of voraciousness. But it's her fatigued, satisfied gaze that sends a familiar, intense prickle down his spine and hips.

The ache builds inside him as he rocks against her, his cock swelling to steel rod proportions, until his peak finally hits him with such a ferocity his jaw grows slack and a choked cry catches in his throat. He clings to her and tightly closes his eyes as he releases himself deep within her, a primal growl escaping his throat. Energy flows throughout him, taking his soul right out of his body.

His mind elevates to a plane beyond existence. Sensations explode within his brain, shattering his soul into pieces. A warm electric current buzzes throughout his body, soothing his frayed nerves. He quivers from the intensity.

She is perfection incarnate.

Images of her flash behind his closed eyelids. Her smiling, her crying, her laughing, her angry, her looking at him with love in her eyes. He can't elude her. It is as it was meant to be, a fate he never wants to escape.

Once his pleasure has released him back into his own body and the aftershocks settle, he buries his face in her damp neck and refuses to loosen his grip for fear of losing his piece of perfection. She lays kisses against his beard and wild curls, coaxing him to let her go with gentle words and soft caresses. "Baby, it's okay. It's okay."

After a few moments, the haze of passion dissipates and her words finally register. His eyes barely open as his mouth instinctively seeks out her lips once again, stealing yet another taste of her. He carefully pulls out of her, feeling evidence of their release spill onto him, slowly dripping to the sheets beneath them. He pays no mind as he sits up and lays a trail of kisses along her clavicle and the column of her throat, again seeking more of her.

"Rick," she softly whispers, the hint of concern in her voice fading as her eyelids flutter close. She mindlessly drags her fingernails against his scalp, encouraging his stimulating caresses.

The attention his sensitive follicles are getting, sends goosebumps down his arms and triggers something inside of him. Her body against his – naked, scorching, and so goddamn flawless – makes him feel parched. He needs something to quench his reemerging thirst. Now.

He gently lays her down in front of him and lowers himself, eager to drown himself in her hydrating sweetness. She gasps in surprise as he begins his task. Moans fill the room as his ravenous appetite seeks to be satisfied.

Though he knows, deep within his soul, his hunger and thirst will never be satiated, he will never stop seeking out the nourishment he craves. She is the well from which he quenches his thirst. She is the sustenance he needs to survive this world.

She is his source of life.

* * *

 _ **Woah. Honest to God, I intended this to be less smutty. It kind of did its own thing. I blame the characters (specifically one of them) so I had to take a step back and have a side conversation with said character.**_

 _ **Me:**_ _ **Holy hell, Rick. That was...that seriously came out of nowhere.**_

 _ **Rick: (looks at me with an attitude) What?**_

 _ **Me: What am I gonna tell these nice people who stopped by to read a tasteful love scene between our beloved characters?**_

 _ **Rick: (shrugs) I'm sorry this happened to you?**_

 _ **Me: Damn it, Rick.**_

 _ **:P**_

 _ ** _Your clearly-in_ -need-of-church writer,**_

 ** _semul_**


	4. Greed: The Pharaoh's Queen

**_Greed_**

 ** _the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of spiritual; also called avarice or covetousness._**

* * *

The raucous celebration echoed throughout the stone hallways. Women, music, libation, and comradery awaited his presence. The guest of honor, Commander Richard, should be with them, joined in their revelry, but his mind and heart sought other temptations.

He slowly stepped into the empty room. Gilded by the gods, the throne gleamed before him in the moonlight, the cool night air easily passing over the balcony and into the exposed room. The sound of his steps echoed as he slowly approached it, gliding his fingertips on the golden armrest. He smiled, glancing around the empty room, he took a careful seat in his pharaoh's rightful place. His eyes closed in bliss.

He felt a nonexistent power surge through him. Though he was content with his position of commander, he couldn't help but wonder what it must be like to be bestowed with the power of a pharaoh. He could imagine the piles of treasure surrounding him, the sweetness of delicacies presented before him upon golden platters, and the fragrant perfumes of adoring women laying kisses at his feet. To live a pampered life of bliss would be paradise. He sighed contentedly.

"Enjoying yourself?"

His eyes shot open, searching in the dark for the familiar smooth voice that haunted him even in fantasies. It was her that he imagined at his side. His heart. His queen, Michonne.

She calmly stood at the doorway, appearing regally ethereal. She wore her white, sheer linen gown that caressed the curves of her full breasts and tiny waist. Her decorated black braids swayed with every move of her elegant neck. Her dark skin glistened under the moonlight, tempting his yearning lips.

A surge of desire overcame his senses. He wanted to take her in his arms and trace every mound and valley with his tongue. He wanted to hear his name pass through her supple lips as he filled her with his aching desire over and over again. His pharaoh's woman was something more he would gladly possess if he could. Though for the moment, he could do no more than arise from the throne with an over-gracious bow.

"Forgive me, my queen. Curiosity has provoked a bout of insolence in your humble subject."

"Insolent, indeed."

His eyes shot up at her knowingly. Though her face appeared unimpressed, her voice suggested otherwise.

She gazed at him distrustfully for a moment before tilting her head in curiosity. "Were you not enjoying yourself at your celebration?"

He eyed her carefully. He did not want to upset his queen yet he could not bring himself to lie to her. "I am appreciative to my pharaoh and queen for bestowing such an honor upon a meager servant such as myself."

She glided further into the room, nodding her head as she indifferently examined the shadows cast by the moon, shining against the columns of stone onto the floor. She paused when she was a few steps away and regarded him coolly. "That does not answer my question, Commander."

He swallowed thickly, forcing his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching out to her. To hear her say his title was enough to provoke a shiver of need down his back. He wanted her. Now.

 _Calm yourself,_ he reprimanded himself. Though the tension was palpable, he could not risk her reputation. He could not defile her majesty. Though, if she were to desire him as he did her, he would gladly fall to his knees and beg to taste her.

He licked his dry lips, images of the places he would taste invading his mind.

"I have thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight, my queen." He dared to look up at her, the passion in his eyes revealing his true feelings, his traitorous mouth speaking for his heart. "Though I must admit your presence has increased my pleasure immensely."

She gazed at him skeptically. Though his words flowed like honey, they had a bitter flavor. He was unsatisfied, focused upon that which he could never possess. She pointedly turned her gaze to the throne. "It appears the source of your pleasure lies upon the seat of my pharaoh's throne."

He tilted his head and stepped closer. "Does it?" He stared intensely, his eyes wandering down to her lips.

She carefully studied him. She understood his look of desire but was more concerned with his insatiability. Greater men before him had succumbed to their avarice only to fall from grace. She had no desire to see him fall. She narrowed her eyes. "Are you not satisfied with that which you have been given?"

"Are you truly concerned with my satisfaction, my queen?" He eyed her suggestively, daring to draw closer to her.

She pursed her lips, tilting her chin in offense. He was inebriated by thoughts of covetousness. He was of no mind to reason let alone listen. She turned to leave.

"Forgive me, my queen. I did not intend to offend you. Please, stay."

She stilled, refusing to resume his game of chase yet far from eager to retire to her chambers. Her clashing emotions warred within her until his voice, now closer than before, stirred her.

"My queen?"

His fingertips lightly grazed her bare arm. Shivers ran up her back, arousing a sharp inhale. Her eyelashes fluttered as she felt his fingers gently caress a trail down her arm. She turned her head to gaze upon his offending hand. Her breath quickened. Were she a weaker woman, she would succumb to the desire pooling in her loins. But she was not weak. She was a queen, a queen bestowed with a duty to her pharaoh and people. To yield to his covetousness would be an unforgiveable transgression.

The instant she felt his warm breath against her ear, she turned away brusquely. "Leave," she commanded, her breath shallow and quivering.

He stilled though his heart beat violently against his chest. She had given him a command yet he could not bring himself to follow her orders. Longing had clouded his mind. He desired her like no other woman. His nose gently prodded against her hair. He could not leave without an answer. He closed his eyes and huskily whispered, "Why?"

She swallowed thickly, turning to confront him. She raised her chin defiantly, fire in her eyes. No lowly subject had ever acted so insolently in her presence. "You have mistaken my charity for consent, Commander. I do not desire your corrupt caresses or false declarations of devotion. I am the queen of your pharaoh, I shall not lower myself to your unworthy level. We are not equals and I am not yours to take. Leave at once or you shall not live to see the dawn."

Though her reprimand had nearly pushed his desire beyond reason, he managed to restrain his urges. He searched her eyes one final time before bowing his head in assent. He silently abandoned his infuriated queen before she followed through with her threat.

As he made his way back to his celebration, his body shook with restrained laughter. Their brief interaction had sealed his fate. He made himself a vow. He would have his pharaoh's power and riches but, most importantly, he would have his queen.

* * *

 **Aaaand I'm back!**

 **Sorry about the hiatus, real life got in the way. But I hope you enjoyed the update!**

 **This chapter was a mix of greed and lust, I didn't intend for it to be that way but we're talking Richonne here. I'm learning quickly that lust is not optional. :)**

 **I wanted to try out an Egyptian royalty kind of a vibe. I imagine Michonne would be a perfect queen and Rick would be the rebellious subject in that kind of scenario. Hopefully, that came across in this story.**

 **I'm currently working on sloth (amongst other updates) so hopefully that'll be up soon. But in the meantime, let me know what you thought!**

 **Your hard-at-work writer,**

 **semul**


	5. Greed: The Pharaoh's Queen Part II

**_Greed_**

 ** _the desire for material wealth or gain, ignoring the realm of spiritual; also called avarice or covetousness._**

* * *

She hated him. She despised him. She wished him dead. Thoughts of the different ways he could suffer ran through her mind as she miserably bobbed about on her filthy camel trekking through the arid desert.

Endless hot sand surrounded them as they made their way to an unknown land. She couldn't escape. Her grunting, two-humped beast was tied to his and beneath her oversized linen gown, her hands were bound with ties. She glared at the man riding next to her. Her eyes were barely visible beneath her head scarf covering her sweaty braids and parched mouth. He was as concealed as her in his peasant clothing yet there was a humor dancing in his eyes that angered her to no end.

It was difficult to believe that it had only been a few nights since her life had changed forever.

She had heard rumors about a growing rebellion but paid it no heed until she had awoken to the cold sharpness of a blade against her neck. Her eyes had immediately blinked open in fear. It was Commander Richard. Confusion filled her sleep-addled mind as he removed the blade and held his finger to his lips, quieting her panicked breaths. He instructed her to dress in the peasant gown draped upon her covers and hastily began emptying her boxes of gold and jewels into a sack.

With the rebellion in mind, she didn't think to question him or demand an explanation. Being one of her pharaoh's trusted advisors, she blindly trusted him. He would not show up in her chambers in the middle of the night for no reason. Assuming he was under orders to protect her, she did as instructed and snuck out of the palace. All the while, her pharaoh commanded his soldiers to find the traitorous commander who had stolen his wife. She could not know that that same traitorous commander was abducting her.

Now, here she sat upon a foul creature, hostage to a madman, and desperate for the luxuries he had taken her away from. Why he'd stolen her from her rightful throne was a mystery to her. She presumed his avarice had finally weakened his senses. Or perhaps it was to claim victory for the rebels. Though, she believed if there were any rebels left, there would be too few to celebrate the conquest. They must have been put to death by her pharaoh after discovering their collusion with her captor.

"Come now, my queen," his voice cut through the silence as he glanced back at her narrowed eyes, "There is no need for your anger. You are free now."

She scoffed. "Am I? These bounds upon my wrists claim otherwise."

Amused by her boldness, he hid a smile. "I shall remove them," he said, subtly adding, "in due time."

"Well, until then, Commander, I shall remain in my state of indignation." She glared at him, denying to oblige him with the pleasure of her company whilst she remained captive against her will.

He exhaled tiredly. He had chosen to keep her oblivious to the truth of her situation believing it was better to lie than destroy her trusting nature. As queen, she was impervious to the evil that ran rampant around her. He did not want to be the one to cause her disillusion. Yet, his actions did not inspire confidence. She believed he had stolen her away and kept her hostage for his own pleasure. It was far from the truth.

Deciding to put an end to his dishonesty, he halted their camels. He closed his eyes and tilted his head in renunciation. "I am no longer your commander, my queen."

"Humph, a truth of which I am certain."

"Along with the truth that you are no longer queen."

How dare he? Fury burned within her. He had no authority to strip her of her title. She was royalty and would remain as such for eternity. Her nostrils flared in restrained anger. "Though you may have abducted me, you cannot divest me of my birthright. I am your queen and you shall suffer for your transgressions."

A sad, half-smile flickered in his eyes. "I could never divest you of your title. You shall always remain my queen. As for my transgressions, I wish you not lay blame at my feet. In time, my actions may very well be commended not detested."

Disgusted by his arrogance, she scowled. "Commended?"

He reluctantly turned to her, compassion in his eyes. "Your pharaoh is dead, my queen. A deed executed by the rebels the night I stole you away."

Her lips parted in disbelief. It could not be true. Her pharaoh could not be dead. Though, the whisper of attempts to dethrone him had spread since the day he was declared pharaoh. It was why she was quick to recognize the true intentions of the man before her the night she'd caught him sitting upon his throne. Yet, here he was, far away from the now empty throne, same as she. Was he not a rebel? She shook her head, refusing to believe it. Of course he was. Why else would he steal her away?

Devastation settled heavily upon her chest as she imagined the life she once knew disappearing before her. She was far away from home and her pharaoh was dead. Denial forbade her from accepting it. She blinked away her tears as the camels began to move once again.

"That is impossible," she whispered harshly.

"Alas, it is not."

"You lie," she said through clenched teeth.

"It is the truth. You were to be next."

She stared at the back of his head with a steely disposition, her eyes wet with grief, awaiting an explanation.

Feeling her stare, he grudgingly explained what had happened. "When kingdoms are overthrown, it is not solely the pharaohs that are done away with. Their entire family is slaughtered. You were his queen. You were to be killed, though not before they...," he unsteadily inhaled, unwilling to finish his explanation.

He did not want to recall what the rebels had planned for her. It had taken everything inside of him not to kill them once he had discovered their vile plan. Instead, he bade his time. He made himself a promise: he would keep her alive and safe from harm, even if it meant she would hate him for the rest of her life.

Nevertheless, upon having her dutifully accompany him the night they fled the city, a hope ignited in his chest. He still desired her more than the priceless jewels now hidden in her traveling bags, more than the vacant throne that had once filled him with an overwhelming desire to rule. He wanted to maintain his original vow: he wanted his queen to finally be his. However, to his misfortune, it did not appear that she desired to even travel alongside him.

She did not want to believe it. Michonne's eyes slightly widened as his unspoken claim rang clear: the rebels wanted to take her virtue and then kill her. It couldn't possibly be true. Her people could not wish her harm. She had done nothing to deserve their cruelty.

Outraged, she asserted, "My subjects would never violate the throne in that manner. They would not desecrate their queen."

Her ignorance made him snort. "Did you truly believe that your subjects were loyal to you because you deserved it? After witnessing their oppression under your pharaoh's rule, did you not realize their suffering?"

His biting words took her aback. She blinked in realization.

Regretting his hard tone, he exhaled tiredly. "You were nothing more to them than something they needed to destroy."

She remained silent before quietly asking the question that choked at her throat. "Is that why you took me? To defile me? To destroy me?"

He abruptly stopped the camels. He turned to her, his eyes gleaming in fury. He dismounted his camel, reached into one of his packs, and tied something to his belt. The gleam of a small dagger in its sheath caught her eye as he approached her. He swiftly pulled her off the camel ignoring her protests.

"Show me your hands."

His angry tone sent panic up her body. Trembling, she backed away. Her back pressed against her beast as he gripped her arm, exposing her bound wrists. She cried out when he reached for his dagger. Before she could pull away, he sliced through her ties.

She gasped in surprise.

Next, he took the rope tying the two camels together and sliced through it as well. Packing away his dagger, he turned to her once again.

"Do not ever claim that I am as deprived as those slaughterers who killed your pharaoh. I stole you away to protect you from your fated suffering. I see now that it was a mistake. I am not your jailor and you are not my prisoner. You are free to leave."

Michonne stared at him in disbelief as he climbed back on his camel and lurched forward, leaving her alone. She looked down at her raw wrists and then around her in bewilderment. He'd released her. She was free yet she was lost. She looked back at where she assumed her now blood-soaked throne sat.

Even if she wanted to return, what would await her? If he was telling the truth, she would be killed or defiled– or both – upon entering the city. And if by chance he was still alive, her pharaoh would never accept a tarnished reputation. She could no longer be queen.

She turned to stare at the receding figure of her captor, then again at the endless mounds of sand that surrounded her. Only the unknown lay before her. If she remained by this former commander's side, there was no telling what her destiny would bring her. If she traveled in any other direction, death or worse would be her fate.

She stared at the packs on her camel. She had enough food and water for a return journey. He'd left her gold and jewels with her, enough to buy a modest existence in any town, if need be. She shut her eyes, longing for an answer to appear before her. Should she risk her return and hope that if indeed her subjects had dissented would restore her to power? Or should she follow the man, who'd apparently saved her life, to live a deprived existence in an unknown land?

She climbed back on her camel and, for the first time in her life, Michonne decided her own destiny.

* * *

 ** _Okay so I received lots of heartfelt reviews asking for a continuation of this and I just couldn't help it. It's not as greed-centric as the first part but it still has subtle hints of it._**

 ** _I know I left the ending a bit ambiguous but maybe this would inspire y'all to decide what she chose. It is all about Richonne but then again, the theme of the story is Greed. So… :)_**

 ** _Anyway, I did tell you guys that I was working on Sloth. It's done but it is ANGSTY. I'm not sure if it's something I want to post just yet but we'll see._**

 ** _As for the continued requests for a continuation to Envy, I mean, it's truly flattering. I've honestly tried but I keep coming up with just a straight-forward, grown-up conversation about things. I don't know if it's the resolution readers want but you never know._**

 ** _Thank you so much for all the support with these stories. I'm kind of taken aback by the passionate response it's received. I look forward to hearing from y'all and I appreciate your support!_**

 ** _Your taken aback writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	6. Sloth: A Denied Truth

**_Sloth_**

 ** _the avoidance of physical or spiritual work._**

 _Warnings: Extremely angsty, pre-Richonne, after Rick says he doesn't take chances anymore, Anderson family deaths didn't happen (yes, I know but it helps with the plot)_

* * *

"So that's your decision?"

"It's our best shot."

Michonne looked away in disbelief.

Rick defensively placed his hands on his hips. "What?"

She scoffed incredulously, mirroring his stance. She couldn't believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

He didn't want anybody going outside of the walls except for occasional runs. No more recruiting, not ever. He wanted to put all his eggs in one basket and focus on just the expansion. It was as if he was in denial of the fact that they had to do both if they were going to build up their community. It wasn't like him to be so myopic. Then again she should've expected it. For the past several weeks, he'd been on a downward spiral. It felt like the man she had once known was being replaced by a poor imitation of the formerly selfless leader she'd once admired.

Although, she wasn't surprised.

He had become too busy with his recently acquired, eager-to-please, widow to think straight. It was something she still couldn't wrap her mind around. Then again, what else did she expect? He'd finally found the blonde of every man's dreams. Wasn't that the way it always was? So as long as they were satisfied, everything and everyone else was secondary. Not even the end of the world could change that.

She sucked in her cheeks to hold back the harsh words on the tip of her tongue as she stared at him testily.

He looked away impatiently, an unintentional snarl tugging at his lip. "You disagree?"

She flinched at his hard tone. The last time he'd said something so coldly was the day he took her to King County. But things had changed after that. They found the same path. They became a team. She searched his face, hoping in vain to find a glimmer of the man she would have once followed to the ends of the earth but all she found was distrust and displeasure.

She swallowed back the sour taste of disillusionment. He was different or maybe he'd reverted back to the same person he was before she met him. Either way, there was nothing she could say or do that would change him back to the man she'd once believed in.

She blinked at him for a moment before quietly responding to his accusatory question of whether she disagreed with his short-sighted plan or not. "Does it matter?"

Rick slightly narrowed his eyes, uncertain of her meaning. Of course her opinion mattered. It was because of her that they'd made it this far.

His jaw ticked in frustration as he attempted to decipher the ambiguous tone in her question but his silence was apparently enough for her. She nodded before turning on her heel and leaving him to wonder what the hell just happened.

He'd thought they were still on the same page but ever since she'd seen him kissing Jessie in the kitchen, Michonne had distanced herself from him. She'd even moved out and into Glenn and Maggie's place. She'd claimed it was to help Maggie with her pregnancy but he knew it was something else. He'd say it was because of what she'd seen but Michonne would never pull away from him because of something so insignificant. It was something else. There was a restlessness in her he didn't understand. Ever since Deanna's death, it was as if she'd become possessed by an insatiable need to find the answer to a question only she knew.

He clenched and unclenched his fists in frustration as he hastily marched after her. Restless or not, he could only tolerate her dismissiveness up to a certain point. Maybe she was fine with fracturing the trust between her, him, and the kids but he wasn't.

Carl was avoiding him now. When he wasn't, he'd glare at him, silently accusing him of their falling-out. And though Judith was still too small to know what was going on, she was restless and would often cry for no reason, probably because one of the most important people in her life was no longer around.

On the few occasions Michonne would grace them with her presence, it was as if she brought a light with her that brightened the entire house. Everything seemed to be at peace on those days but would quickly fade away when she left. The growing uneasiness that fed the division between them made those visits few and far between. He just didn't understand what had gone wrong. They were friends, partners. They'd gone through hell and back. So why was she purposely trying to evade him? All he knew was that he was done trying to read her mind.

He caught up with her and grabbed her wrist, a move he instantly regretted as she swiftly pulled away and gave him a hostile look he hadn't seen since they'd first met. They stood in the middle of the street, staring each other down, an intense current flowing between them.

A rush of desire hit him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes dragged down to her slightly parted lips. A need to kiss them came over him. He could already imagine their taste, their pillowy softness, taking them in his own and drinking from them until he was inebriated by the sensations that were already beginning to fog his mind. He knit his brow at the unexpected urge. It was the first time these feelings had hit him so strongly in broad daylight. Usually, he'd have enough time to repress them before they painted such explicit pictures.

She interpreted his confusion as anger. She recoiled. This had become too painful. She couldn't stay angry at him. She couldn't continue avoiding him. But she couldn't stay locked up behind these walls until he figured out how wrong he was about all of this.

"I can't…I can't do this," she uttered between measured breaths.

He searched her face in anticipation, wondering if she was referring to the desire he was feeling. Was she feeling the same? It wasn't until he noticed the sadness in her eyes that he realized she wasn't referring to his sudden yearning. No, he recognized that look. It was the one she would wear before she left on her searches for the Governor. Was she…she couldn't be. Did she want to _leave_?

Panic leapt in his throat. He stepped closer, his face inches from hers. He couldn't let that happen. She closed her eyes and hung her head as he studied her. "Yes, you can. We need you here."

She refused to look him in the eye. His breath painfully caught in his chest. He could already feel her slipping away. He squeezed her shoulder, refusing to allow her to let go. He slightly crouched down to get a full view of her eyes, demanding her to look at him with a soft, "Hey." The solid ground he'd stood on for so long was slowly sinking beneath him. She was the foundation he'd rebuilt himself on. He couldn't allow her to take that away from him.

When he finally drew her eyes, he firmly informed her, "This doesn't work without you. None of it does. You're a part of this now."

She remained silent, unconvinced. He swiftly reminded her, "You said you were done taking breaks. Carl and Judith need you. We need you."

She winced at how easy it was for him to use his kids as a negotiation tactic. He knew what buttons to push when it came to her heart. _Damn him_.

When she remained quiet, he sighed exasperatedly. The familiar slither of betrayal tightened around his soul, choking out all reason. How could she do this to him? How could she even consider leaving? How could she not see this was what was best? This would keep them alive and safe.

His hand dropped from her stiff shoulder. The words he wanted to say - _don't do this_ , _stay_ \- they all dissipated in a cloud of outrage.

"You wanted this," he accused her, "you wanted this place. You told me to give these people a chance. I'm doing what you told me, isn't that what you wanted?" His voice was now raised in frustration, terror lacing every word.

She looked up at him. _What she wanted_...why was it that everybody had suddenly felt the need to concern themselves with what she wanted? The world didn't revolve around her. Everybody had choices to make and hers were her business, not anyone else's, especially this stranger that stood in front of her.

Her body relaxed in feigned resignation. She knew he wouldn't let her go. He would shoot down any idea now of her going beyond the walls for any reason. He'd do it not because he cared about what was best for her but because of what was best for him. She swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. Leaving would no longer be a choice but an escape.

She nodded, hoping her agreement would pacify him enough to come up with a plan. "It was." She searched his eyes one final time before walking away.

A tug at his chest told him to stay with her, to follow her back to Maggie and Glenn's, to demand that she restore everything that had broken between them. But he didn't. He let her walk away believing that he'd see her again, trusting that what had broken wasn't serious enough for her to leave him.

He was wrong.

* * *

 ** _Hello again!_**

 ** _I decided to post it after all. Hope you're still with me on this one!_ _Lots of angst for our Richonne warriors this time._**

 ** _I tried to weave sloth as avoidance within this story. I just couldn't imagine Rick and Michonne avoiding physical work and the only way I could see them avoiding each other (aside from the different ways they cope with a serious tragedy) was if a clash of ideals_ _came to a head._**

 ** _I'm considering another part to this or expanding it to an actual story but I haven't decided yet._**

 ** _Again, thank you for all your support! I've loved reading all the comments!_** ** _As always, I look forward to hearing from y'all again!_**

 ** _Your feeling productive writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


	7. Pride: A Denied Truth Part II

**_Pride_**

 _(a sequel to Sloth)_

 ** _the excessive belief in one's own abilities; also known as vanity._**

* * *

The gray clouds loomed above the small group of scavengers. The early morning air, already thick with humidity, signaled an approaching storm.

"Looks like we might run into bad weather." Glenn squinted up at the dark sky. He glanced at the dreadlocked woman stuffing their belongings into the trunk of their car.

Michonne briefly paused before continuing her mindless arranging, offering no reply.

He warily studied her, packing alongside her. Oblivious to the tension, Tara hummed as she packed the back seat. Michonne was quieter than usual. He would even say withdrawn. It probably had something to do with the fight she and Rick treated the entire community to yesterday.

They'd all heard bits of it, the parts they could make out at least. It appeared the pair were at odds on how to best run their community. One of those odds was precisely what they were preparing to do.

Rick wanted to focus on the expansion. Michonne wanted to cover all their bases.

Hence, the unsanctioned run.

She'd been the one to arrange it with him and Tara. She convinced them they couldn't cut themselves off from the world. They needed supplies, medicine, and clothes. Focusing on the expansion wasn't going to fix that. They agreed and now they were here, running off in the early morning hours like thieves in the night.

"You sure about this?" He asked again, closing the trunk of the car with a muted thump.

She nervously gripped the strap of the sheathed katana that laid securely against her back.

 _Was she sure?_

It was the first time she'd ever gone against Rick's orders. It was the first time she'd made a decision without letting him know. It wasn't the cautious choice but she was done standing still.

She stared off into the direction of the expansion. In a few hours, it would be buzzing with people ready to resume their work without a hitch. She wanted to keep them protected. She wanted to keep them prepared. And though what they were about to do risked their own safety, solely focusing on the expansion would be far more dangerous.

Her gaze shifted in the direction of the house she once shared. She longed for the days when they were on the same page.

Right about now, Rick would be waking up. Whether it was alone or next to someone else was a question she'd rather not have answered. Instead, she ran through the routine she used to spend her mornings reveling in.

He would spend a few minutes using the bathroom, getting ready for the day. Then he'd head straight to Judith's bedroom. He'd bid her good morning and change her while giving her a full rundown of their plans for the day. Soon after, they'd stop by Carl's bedroom and knock on the door until he heard his son's sleepy grunt. Satisfied, father and daughter would walk downstairs to eat breakfast.

She knew their morning routine by heart. It was once her routine, too. Just thinking about it caused an emotion to well in the back of her throat.

She hated leaving without letting him know but it was what was best for the community. They needed supplies. They needed to prepare for the worst. Blindly obeying Rick would be their downfall.

It was up to her to convince herself that she was sure of her decision. Otherwise, they wouldn't make it past the gate.

Hardening her features, she declared, "I'm sure."

She strode to the driver's seat, ready to leave. Her companions bid their loved ones goodbye and loaded the car. They slowly made their way past the gates and into the darkened dawn.

 **Two Weeks Ago…**

"I'm moving out."

Rick's eyes flew open.

He'd just come home from his long shift of working on the expansion. He was tired and his muscles ached. The first thing he did was flop down on the couch and rest his eyes. Eating and bathing would have to wait.

Now, he was fully awake, all thoughts of a relaxing evening flying out the window.

He groggily sat up, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his hand. He couldn't have heard right or maybe he'd imagined it. He croaked out, "What?"

"It's time I moved out," Michonne steadily repeated, her tone rehearsed.

Rick knit his brow, scratching at it with his thumb. This was all coming from nowhere. Things had been going good. Hell, he'd even say great.

They'd worked out a schedule between them to keep an eye on the kids. He'd arrange for them one day, she'd do it another. Then, whoever was working that day would come home to a family meal. Or on late nights, a warm plate and a reserved spot on the couch to share in how each other's days had gone.

It was a nice routine that had developed in the Grimes household. Even Daryl put in his part to maintain that routine. But it appeared that she was no longer on board.

He asked the only logical question his brain was capable of forming, "Why?"

"It'd be good to have our own spaces to grow."

He frowned, utterly confused. If she wanted more space, he'd give her as much space as she needed. It was a big house. They'd manage.

"It's what's best."

He highly doubted anything she was saying would be considered 'what's best'. He scrubbed at his face, the confusion tearing at his brain. "You leaving us is what's best?"

She steeled herself, her features hardened in determination.

He studied her for a moment before sighing in realization. He had a feeling he knew why. "If this is about the other night, I told you, it won't happen again."

She had accidently walked in on him and Jessie kissing in the kitchen. It wasn't his proudest moment. The second he sensed her presence, he stopped. Of course, she'd scurried away before he'd had a chance to explain.

It took him three whole days to finally catch up with her long enough to apologize and promise it would never happen again. She'd barely made eye contact with him and merely nodded to acknowledge his apology.

She shifted uncomfortably, quickly dismissing his assumption. "I know." She closed her eyes, refusing him the chance to dig deeper in to her assertion. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

She looked at him as if she was about to reveal something worthy of note. Then a pained expression twisted her features. She looked away and murmured, "Maggie needs me."

"Maggie needs you?"

"Glenn and Maggie, they're gonna need help now that she's expecting."

"Did they say that?"

"They didn't need to. I offered."

Rick took a moment to think through everything. She was leaving. She was leaving their home because she wanted to give each other space to grow. Not only that, she was leaving because she wanted to provide Glenn and Maggie with help they didn't request.

He'd heard of some pretty remarkable excuses in his time but this took the cake.

Still, he couldn't call her out on it. As painful as it was to accept, it was obvious she didn't want to share a home with him anymore. It clawed at his chest. He couldn't force her to stay nor did he have the right to ask her to stay for his kids. Though, he considered them theirs more than just his.

He nodded in consideration, giving her another chance to reconsider. "Is that what you want?"

She nodded, still avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, I do."

He hunched over and stared down at his clasped hands. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. His heart ached at the thought of things changing.

He couldn't imagine their home adjusting to her absence. To lose her companionship, to lose the evenings of her waiting for him when he stepped through the door, to lose her partnership in raising the kids, it was all too much. His insides twisted in anguish. He wasn't ready to let her go. He would never be ready.

It opened a floodgate to emotions he didn't realize he held. It was confusing, frustrating, and he was ill prepared to handle it.

He tried one last time to convince her to stay. "You don't have to leave. You can help Glenn and Maggie whenever they need it. You can take my bedroom, if you need more space. You can still live here. That doesn't have to change."

He looked up at her, his eyes almost pleading. He could see she wanted to take the offer. The hope inside him burned brightly.

He could already imagine her resignedly accepting with a small smile and a soft okay. He'd scoot over and they'd spend the rest of the night quietly talking and laughing about the idea of him running a household by himself. Things would stay the same. He wouldn't have to pick up the pieces she'd leave behind.

It was so real to him that he wasn't prepared for the shock of being wrong.

"I'll move my things out tomorrow."

She walked away before he could say anything, leaving him alone on the couch to wonder how the hell everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.

* * *

 ** _Well, well, well. At long last, I updated this series. Sorry about the wait!_**

 ** _I hope you enjoyed the bit of Glenn POV. I really, really miss him._**

 ** _And I'm going to be honest here. I wrote more to this two-part story and it doesn't end so depressingly._**

 ** _The fic was to be a response to the very unrealistic fact that no other man showed interest in Michonne on the show. I mean, if Rick got to date before hooking up with Michonne, why didn't she? So this fic goes into Michonne finding someone else before ending up with Rick._**

 ** _Only an extremely partial rough draft is available and I'm fairly sure I don't have it in me to start another multi-chapter fic. Nonetheless, I decided to share a bit more of it with you rather than to just hoard it all away forever._**

 ** _I'm going to try and finish the last two sins (lust and wrath) soon. The plan is to wrap up my fics before readers start to lose interest or leave the fandom because of the show's poor choices. I'm already feeling the impending lack of feedback that comes with a dwindling fandom on my other fic. So I'm expecting it to hit hard all around soon._**

 ** _Let me take a moment to say, I've truly loved writing for the Richonne fandom. It's been an absolute privilege. I'll do my best to get things wrapped up and provide y'all with as much Richonne goodness as I can in the upcoming months._**

 ** _I'd love to hear what you thought of this two-part series. Don't forget, your reviews give me life! Thank you for all your support!_**

 ** _Until the next time!_**

 ** _Your Richonne loving writer,_**

 ** _semul_**


End file.
